


Free to go (as you please)

by Nabrah87



Category: Tiny Pretty Things (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Marriage, References to Depression, References to attempted suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:35:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28668582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nabrah87/pseuds/Nabrah87
Summary: Alan Renfrew has been married to Topher Brooks for most of his life, seeing him struggle with the untimely end of his career day in and day out.His kindness and compassion might make the sports-medic seem an ill-fit to the stern and short-tempered ballet-dancer turned choreographer, but both are patient men and while they may struggle in their respective jobs, their marriage consists of the love they share.
Relationships: Topher Brooks/Alan Renfrew
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Free to go (as you please)

When Alan opened the door to their small condo, the delicious smell of a fresh cooked meal wafted from the kitchen-area into the entrée.

“I’m home.”, he called to his husband, while tossing his keys into the bowl they kept just inside the door.

Topher answered him, but it was drowned out by the beeping noise of the oven-timer, thus Alan continued his way into the kitchen, where his husband was stirring a pot of vegetables.

He came up behind him, his hands to his waist, before they slid around his middle and his chin could settle on his non-dominant shoulder.

“Smells delicious.”, he commented and closed his eyes, content to be home after a long day.

“It’s almost done. Set the table?”, Topher answered him, sliding his free hand atop his husbands, tapping them gently to get him moving.

Alan grinned, kissed his T-Shirt-clad shoulder and moved to the cupboard, where they stored the plates and cutlery.

“Monique is not going to get away with selling the girls to those men”, he said conversationally, placing glasses and a pitcher of water on the table.

“This is how ballet schools have worked for far too long to be turned upside down due to one single article.”, Topher remarked, setting the vegetables on the table, where Alan had already placed the coaster.

“Money and art have always gone hand in hand.”, he continued, bending to retrieve the steaks from the oven.

“Are you saying that it is simply a pity that someone shed light on it?”, asked Alan, incredulously, stopping in portioning the contents of the pot on their plates.

“I am saying”, his husband continued, placing medium-rare steaks on their respective plates, “that I condemn the abusive behaviour of this man, as much as you. The practice of letting ballerinas earn their tuition by serving straight, rich men in a bar, however, is not reprehensible.”

Topher took his place adjacent to his husband, placed his hand onto the medics and calmy met his gaze.

“You are right to look for a change of scenery. This business isn’t pretty.”

Alan opened his mouth to reciprocate, but closed it again, when Topher squeezed his hand.

“I have been in ballet as a dancer and subsequently choreographer long enough to know, that the kind of money it takes to excel in this profession doesn’t come easy. And I swear to you, here and now, that what happened won’t happen again.”

With a sigh and a nod, Topher let go of his husband’s hand, but his significant other caught his wrist, before he could fully pull away.

“I am not looking for a job in another town. I will not leave.”, Alan shook his head, before his husband could say anything. “I know that you are in a better place now. That doesn't mean I’ll just up and leave.”

Neither Alan, nor Topher had broken eye contact, a conversation taking place independent from their voices.

"Let's eat before dinner gets cold.", the latter said, adverted his eyes and freed his wrist from his husband's grip.

Alan nodded. The conversation was over for the time being, because his husband knew his temper and would always call a halt to a conversation before it could get the better of him. Thus, Alan picked up his knife and fork, enjoying the meal his husband had prepared, their conversation drifitng into lighter matters.

After dinner and washing-up, they took their dog out for a walk. A stray they had found on the stairs of their rental apartment the day Topher had been released from the hospital after his back injury and subsequent suicide attempt, and taken him in. Topher had vetoed at first, but since Alan saw the small dog’s arrival as a good sign, they had kept him and to no one’s surprise the puppy had taken to Topher immediately and vice versa.

Alan walked next to his husband, who walked the dog, in companionable silence and distance.

“Maybe I will pursue my photography.”, Topher grumbled after they had made their way halfway through the park.

“You should do, what feels right for you.”, Alan acceded his point. “You are a remarkable choreo- and photographer. Yet just because I can’t take another day in this institution doesn’t mean you have to second guess your choices.”

Topher seemed to contemplate this, and they lapsed into silence once more. For his short temper, he had learned to think on his husband’s words and see his side before he went on with whatever his mind told him was right. In more ways than one way he was his sounding board, his heart and his calm in the storm that were his thoughts.

“All I am saying is, you shouldn’t settle on a job in the area, just because I am here.”

“It is not a “just because” and yes, you are here. My life is here.”, he told him in a soft voice. Topher wasn’t one who took well to being cuddled. “We will find our way. We always have.”

Alan gave his husband a light smile, while the other man’s eyes were intent on his.

“You are free to go.” – “I won’t leave.”

“You married a ballet-dancer, not a man in a wheel-chair.” – “I married you.”

Topher could hear their conversations on his hospital bed clear as day, while his eyes roamed his beloved’s features.

“Monique has gone too far and there need to be consequences. There will be collateral damage.”, he said at last, his gaze intent. “And I will do everything humanly possible to make sure that it is not the students.”

Alan looked back at him.

“Of course, you will.”, he said simply, following him up the steps to their place.

It was late in the night when Alan was startled awake. Like so many nights before, Topher was not in bed beside him. He groaned softly and slid across his husband’s side of the bed, finding its covers cold, and lowered himself to the floor.

And like he had done in each of those nights, Alan curled into his husband’s side, carefully tugging the cover around them both and fell asleep with his hand protectively placed on the sleeper's lower back.


End file.
